


Broken Brain

by withinmelove



Category: Captain America (Movies), Daredevil (TV), Deadpool (Movieverse)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, M/M, Protective Steve Rogers, Temporary Amnesia, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 04:57:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18887617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withinmelove/pseuds/withinmelove
Summary: Wade gets his head obliterated by a grenade. Lo and behold he's now got amnesia. It's up to Steve to help him gain some semblance back of a normal life.





	Broken Brain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emmatheslayer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmatheslayer/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Broken Brain Art](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/482422) by Emmatheslayer. 



> So this is my fic for Captain America Reverse Big Bang 2019!  
> I saw the art for Steve/Wade and knew I wanted to write for this prompt as well: https://leveragehunters.tumblr.com/post/176386590566/milkteaghost-imagine-a-villain-getting-injured
> 
> Thank you Emily for art I hope I did it justice! 
> 
> Here is the link to my artist's work! https://emmatheslayer.livejournal.com/576190.html
> 
> I've found out I really love writing the possibility of Wade/Steve/Matt Murdock. New rarepair sighted!

Before all this chaos started with Wade Wilson, the one thing Captain America could say about Deadpool is that he’s a dangerous nuisance. Namely for the fact he takes mercenary work that the Avengers can’t touch as a globally scrutinized organization. Secretly Steve is relieved that _someone_ is able to slog through the underbelly with little restraint. But as Captain America it’s an issue because Deadpool is a loose canon.

The Avengers can’t have the general public deciding to join mercenary work. Which means more than a few times they’ve raided St. Margaret’s for Wayward Girls. The prostitutes they leave alone, it’s the contracted killers they go for. 

Something else Steve as a person will never admit to enjoying is brawling. Granted, it’s rather hard to brawl when nearly everyone he meets are not superpowered. His teammates will go head to head with him, or the way he prefers, which is four against one, but that’s not too often. What with everyone having their own lives when not on missions, it’s seldom Steve really gets to push himself physically. 

Everyone but the newest of contractors knows this song and dance. Many have rap sheets miles long that isn’t going to be made worse by a raid. While Steve pulls his punches against this group they don’t come quietly. 

A few of the ballsier ones pull knives on him and maybe he doesn’t dodge as fast as he could to avoid them. 

By the time he’s finished, the smile threatens to bubble up. They’ll be back here within a week or two at most but this is a good stress reliever. He controls himself and assumes the appropriate disapproving-Captain expression. Bad business to make his enjoyment obvious. It’s one thing to like this mutually understood fighting and another to gloat. The latter will make enemies out of this crowd faster than he can blink. 

“Hey, you should have waited until tomorrow. Wade would have been back in town,” Weasel, the bartender, says, pausing a moment as he’s being led out the door by a plainclothes officer. 

Steve gives a non-committal smile and nods. The officer mutters something rude, pushing hard at Weasel to keep him walking towards one of the many squad cars parked outside. Wade... He definitely will have to keep an eye out for his schedule. Besides a few of the women and men here, Wade’s the closest to keeping up with his serum enhanced body. 

Not much is known about Wade as a civilian. From medical records not legally obtained by S.H.I.E.L.D, Steve knows Wade was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer two years ago, disappeared for a year, and then turned up looking like a burn victim. The mercenary work had been the one constant in his life. A bitter end note to the file was that Wade’s wife had died from a bullet to the chest a year ago. 

Steve had seen the photos of Wade before and after his disappearance. Pity and grief strangled each other in his chest at the sight. Whatever he had put himself through must have been hellish indeed to cause such a change. Steve understands what can drive a person to the do the unimaginable for their loved ones. Despite the rumors of purposeful enhancement during his ghost year, of physical and mental abilities, he doubts that Wade cheerfully volunteered for the mutilation he came out with. He’s only sorry it was seemingly in vain. 

\--

The itch is under his skin to have Wade here to fight with. 

\--

Steve has to admit when he’s not on missions he tends to stick to himself at his own apartment. It’s not that he dislikes his fellow colleagues, it’s just that he’d rather be alone. Civilian housing helps anchor him firmly to his personal life outside of being an Avenger and surrounded by more wealth than everyone in the state of New York combined. 

Besides, he doesn’t want to be flashy or boastful with his new group of friends. They’re a group of eight that run a critique group for artists and writers. Steve admires the casual affection and humor between them all. It all started when he saw a small poster on the bulletin board in his favorite bookstore. The place resembled someone’s house more than an actual store (helped by the fact that five cats roamed the place). So on a mission to be sociable, he went to the critique group to fall in love. 

No surprise when he first showed up he got some startled, shocked looks. But past some not so subtle texting and side glances, no one made a huge fuss about his presence there. 

The day he meets the man behind Daredevil’s mask, he’s stopping in at his preferred coffee shop after critique group. It’s there that he runs into Scott Lang. 

He would have overlooked Scott completely, if not for Cassie, Scott’s daughter, starts vehemently waving at him. The movement catches his eye from his peripheral. Steve glances over from where he’s picking up his hot chocolate and slice of cake. A second later Scott looks up to see him, grins, and waves him over just as enthused. With his hands now full, Steve lifts his plate in greeting before walking over to them.

Before the issues with Tony, he’d not been familiar with who Scott Lang or Ant-Man were. He’s still not close to Scott but the guy’s very friendly, that much can be said. Scott now hangs around the Avengers town when he can so he seems the guy more often now. He sits down at their table and sets down his cup and plate. 

“Hey Steve! Fancy running into you here! Cassie, this is Steve Rogers, one of my coworkers. Steve, my daughter, Cassie.” 

“Afternoon, Cassie. Nice to meet you.” Steve shakes her tiny hand. “Surprised to see me as a civilian?” he asks Scott. Maybe it’s like seeing your teacher outside of the classroom and in the grocery store instead. 

Scott shakes his head, eyes sparkling in excitement. He leans in, dropping his voice and Cassie follows his example. 

“You didn’t hear? We found out who Daredevil is. You know, the one with the red suit and horns?” Steve nods curious. “He’s a guy named Matt Murdock. Blind dude who’s a lawyer in Hell’s Kitchen. Works pro bono for a lot of poor clients or those who are wrongfully charged.” 

Collecting his thoughts, Steve takes a sip of his hot chocolate and winces at the burn. Ouch, too fast. While he doesn’t care for Scott’s casual reveal of a fellow enhanced person’s identity, there’s no way to unhear the information now. 

“And how does this affect Avengers? He’s not trying to take on our level of criminals is he?” He spares a glance at Cassie, who makes no secret of the fact that she’s avidly listening. Suspiciously, this doesn’t seem like it’s the first time she’s been privy to these kind of conversations. Another head shake from Scott.

“Nah, he just mainly protects Hell’s Kitchen. Just thought you’d want to know. Clint tells me you’ve got an itch and - well - he is enhanced. Besides, he’s friends with Deadpool,” he adds with a sly grin. And if Steve was eavesdropping on this conversation he’d be concerned as to why two men are discussing itches and being enhanced in front of a small girl. 

Time to steer the conversation to safer more appropriate waters.

“Thanks for telling me. So, what are you and Cassie doing today? Have you guys tried the doughnuts?” Steve steers quickly away from the topic. 

Steve isn’t an inherently violent man but there’s an appeal in testing his skill and stamina by fighting against another person. Even before the serum he’d managed to smack talk or wheedle his way into the fighting rings or brawls with the guys in the gyms. Challenging asshole pricks in alleyways was a different kind of fighting. Now with a body made to be perfect, it’s a matter of declining to fight macho civilians who want to take on Captain America to boost their egos. 

Maybe he should check in on this Matt Murdock. He must be feisty for Scott to be mentioning him. Both his own and Matt’s reputations clearly precede them in this arena. The fact that he’s also friends with Deadpool and possibly the man under the mask is of interest as well. 

\--

Innocent curiosity nudges Steve to Fogwell’s gym. Sure, he’s got state of the art equipment at the Tower but...he wants to meet the man who calls himself Wade Wilson’s friend. It’s possible he’s the only one besides Weasel. 

Hell’s Kitchen was just as rough as Brooklyn back in the day. He’d thrown down there plenty of times. A second home if it could be called that. 

He heads out to the gym an hour before closing. Scott had passed on Matt’s schedule. Rather than question where exactly Scott got these details, Steve politely thanked him. If the intel is right, he has little doubt Scott’s info is given to whoever needs it versus sticking to one side. Despite Scott’s open delight at speaking to him, he’s still not got the cleanest record of associates. 

What hits Steve first when he sees the place is that it’s old. Stepping inside the front door, the heavy scent of stale sweat and socks plugs his nose. It’s a familiar comforting smell. There are a few men and women working the bag, others sparring in the ring, or watching themselves lift weights in the mirror. 

A few double takes from the patrons but otherwise everyone keeps doing their own thing.

Around forty minutes later when Steve’s in the middle of holding his plank with sweat dripping off his face, a pair of bare feet step into his view. The toes are lightly dusted with dark hair.

A glance up reveals a slender dark haired man smiling down at him. From the dark glasses hanging from the neck of his tank top, this is likely Matt Murdock in the flesh.

“Steve, right? Caroline told me Cap decided to stop into our humble abode,” Matt greets with a smile offering him a hand. A chuckle bubbles up in Steve’s chest as he accepts the help up, surprised by the strength behind the simple move. He’s no featherweight anymore.

He wipes off his face with the bottom of his t-shirt. “Yep, it’s Steve. Nice to meet you, Matt. Scott mentioned you last week and I figured I’d stop by.”

Matt nods, a knowing look crossing his face at Scott’s name.

“Ah so it was Scott. I wondered who would tip me off to the Avengers. He told me you’ve been itching for some good fights. Not enough villains recently?” It seems that Scott isn’t reserved about who he talks to and about what. Well - Steve just hopes he knows when to keep his mouth shut.

“Surprisingly, the bad guys have been well behaved. But it’s bad press if Captain America accidentally beats up a man to death.” 

A hum of acknowledgement. 

“Well I’ve got a guy whose bones you can break without worry. He should be showing up soon. Tends to run late but I mentioned you and he seemed...quite excited.” Steve’s stomach tightens at the mention of someone else showing up. While there are very few people who can physically threaten him, it’s the thought of getting mobbed that has his nerves on edge. He must give some sign of this because Matt tilts his head, his gaze slightly to the left of Steve. 

“It’s alright, Steve. You know this guy. Just some friendly sparring time between enhanced people. I promise I didn’t post on Twitter that you’re here.” The light jingle of the bell over the door signals that someone’s come in. Steve looks over his shoulder to see that it’s _Wade_ of all people. 

“Wade, right?” Matt asks although it’s clear he already knows who walked in. Steve glances back to him eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“How did you know?”

Matt taps his nose. “Heightened senses. Wade smells like burnt skin. Other things on other days but always that base fragrance.”

“Steve! Ready to fight, big guy? We haven’t had fun in what - months?” Wade calls out as he hops over to them absolutely bouncing from excitement. The other patrons have at this point started to make their way towards the exit although some watch them curiously. Maybe it’s a good idea to lower the shades on the windows.

“Ready when you are. And I’ve been home for awhile, it’s you who’s been gone for the past couple months,” Steve answers back easily as if they’ve always shared this easy kind of rapport. 

It’s not long for his hesitation and subtle holding back in their sparring to be called out by Wade.

“Oh no, no Mr. I throw myself out of planes at any possible chance! You’re not holding out on me when we finally get to fight for real. Besides it’s two against one. Me and Matt can certainly hold our own against you now.” 

A grin fights its way onto Steve’s lips. Well if they say so then he’ll just have to oblige them. 

“Come on then. Try.” 

The sparring between them is the best Steve’s had in at least a year. Dirty, brutal jabs and kicks. Grunts, panting, swearing laughter. Less stand up fighting and more mixed martial arts. Matt gets in a sharp uppercut that has Steve’s teeth clicking together hard. Before he can return the favor of a fat lip, Wade’s dragging Steve off Matt receives a hard kick aimed at his shin for that. 

Wade laughs, his face and bald head already starting to glisten with sweat but there are no snarky comments. 

By the time they finish sparring they’re all weak shaky messes. Even with his super serum stamina it’s assured that yes, Wade is very much able to keep up with him. Steve won’t say anything but he thinks Matt may have pushed himself too hard. Despite heightened senses and whatever training he’s received, sparring with two enhanced people has got to be a complete drain on him. 

“Doing okay? Didn’t wear you out?” Steve huffs out from where he’s laying on his back Matt on his left and Wade on his right. 

“I think I’ll stop by the pool later to soak in the hot tub,” Matt answers although he’s smiling as he says that. So clearly Steve didn’t quite kill him with exhaustion. Good. 

“Before you do that it’s time to stretch you out!” Wade cheerfully announces as if that sentence doesn’t sound wrong in every way. Matt apparently thinks so too from the way his mouth twists in a distasteful frown. With far too much energy for how hard they all pushed themselves only a couple minutes ago, Wade bounces up. Despite his moue of distaste, Matt lifts up his right leg up in the air so that Wade can grasp his ankle and gently push his leg towards his chest.

“Wade, you know how inappropriate that sounded, right?” Matt asks, his tone dry even as he groans when Wade leans into him a bit. There’s a faintest _pop_ from Matt’s right hip that Steve’s heightened hearing catches.

“Really? I thought you’d be used to hearing that, being a good Catholic boy and all,” Wade answers straight-faced. A laugh bursts out of Steve before he can help it.

“Sorry, sorry. That was rude of me,” he apologizes, a blush burning his face. It’s one thing to laugh at Catholic jokes and another to laugh at them in front of others. 

“I just take advantage of all openings, Stevie boy.” Wade winks. It’s stupid that his body reacts by blushing at that. But something about Wade’s lecherous and weirdly sincere sexual comment does things to Steve. Apparently. 

“Please, not the nickname Stevie. It sounds terrible.”

Wade shrugs as he let’s go of Matt’s right leg, reaching down to grasp his left ankle repeating the same stretch on him.

“Alright, bubble butt, up to you what nickname I settle on.” 

He and Matt both roll their eyes at the same time. 

Before Wade can start coming up with more embarrassingly intimate nicknames, he gets a call (his cell left off to the side by Matt’s duffel bag) that has him heading towards the door at a fast clip.

“See you two hotties later! Got some...not illegal stuff to do!” Wade waves goodbye as he exits. 

Now that he’s gone, Steve can ask the question he’s had since Wade showed up. It’s a puzzle as to how Matt and Wade are friends. They seem such an unlikely pair to even know each other. 

“How’d you even get to know him? I thought you stayed in Hell’s Kitchen for the most part.” He asks.

Matt laughs as he strips out of his sweat soaked shirt. Steve may peek at his trim figure but only for a second. Matt feels for the zipper on his duffel bag opening it to shove the one shirt in and grab a dry one. 

“I do. Deadpool isn’t obligated to any one area though and it’s not surprising that a lot of his hits are on the guys I’m going after. It took some time for us to work out a system. No killing my suspects until I got a chance to question them.” 

Steve blinks, eyebrows raised in surprise at hearing him say that. He wants to ask if Matt has suffered between following the Church doctrine and his morals as Daredevil. Although the Church was a part of his own youth, Steve had never been a steadfast follower and even before the serum his attendance had been minimal. 

What was meant as a one-off thing turns slowly into a routine. It’s not one that has a set date or time but at least once every two or three weeks they gather at Fogwell’s to spar. Other times they go to the Tower. Usually they go there if Matt’s tapped out because of Daredevil injuries. Despite the fact Wade called him out that first time for holding back, Steve has to when Matt’s involved. Wade can superheal from anything but he’s never had to deal with the fact that a thoughtless punch could pulverize a person’s insides. 

However when it’s just the two of them facing off there is an edge of pure, brutal strength that Steve can let loose. The first time he accidentally shattered Wade’s elbow, the following scream of pain scared the shit out of him as he realized what he’d just done.

“Jesus Christ! Fuck - Wade - I’m sorry!” Steve yelps, letting go of him. Wade falls to his knees cradling his right arm. Matt’s up in a flash from his seat, striding across the gym and hurrying to Wade’s side, hands out grasping for his friend. What takes Steve aback is the panting grin that he gets when Wade looks up at him. 

“I knew you were holding back, Prince Charming. No, no - c’mon don’t make that unhappy face. This’ll heal in twenty minutes, tops. I want you to keep fighting me like that. Give us some stakes.” Wade goads even as he clasps Matt’s hand pulling him down so he can feel the broken bone. Matt’s lips pinch tight as he figures out the damage, no doubt hearing the bones shift against each other in ways they shouldn’t.

Wade _giggles_. “Glad that wasn’t you, sweet lips. Think how that’d keep you out of horned trouble.” 

Steve doesn’t understand how Wade can find this funny. But then again maybe he’s found that humor helps deal with the pain. Regardless, they’re done. 

There’s no lying to himself - there’s a thrill at the thought of doing this again.

\--

Before they get a second chance to go another round, a life-threatening emergency rears its head as per usual. 

It’s a large group of women threatening to let off grenades into a crowded intersection of traffic. Steve isn’t really listening to whatever propaganda they’re spouting, as he’s more focused on coaxing civilians from their cars while the rest of the Avengers are divided between helping them and being ready to pounce on the armed women. 

“Steve!” Tony’s voice blares through the earpiece. Steve whirls around instinctively, the shield coming up fast to protect them. Despite the sound of the blast and seconds later the vibrations running through him it’s clear the grenade did not reach Steve or the three civilians cowering behind him. Lowering the shield reveals Wade or...what’s left of him.

Going to war has girded Steve with a strong stomach but even he finds it tested at the sight of the gore and brain matter that was Wade’s head, not to mention the upper half of his body has been shredded from the blast.

He presses the comm tucked in his ear. “Tony, we’re going to need a body bag after this.” 

Before he can give Wade proper attention, it’s time to deal with the women who have been distracted at Wade’s sudden appearance and mutilation. They manage to pick them off when the women try to make a break for it once their plan has gone awry. When it’s been assured the bomb squad can get in to do their work, Steve goes back to where Wade’s corpse is still sprawled on the pavement. 

For lack of anything better to do, Steve lays Wade in one of the body bags from an ambulance on scene. It’s not there for the Avengers but any civilians caught in the crossfire. Wade took the full brunt, leaving hysterical but living survivors behind. 

The whole team is quiet on the ride home in the S.H.I.E.L.D van outfitted to be their personal crime fighting vehicle. Steve thinks of it as the inverted version of the Mystery Machine (Peter had marathoned Scooby Doo with him when no one else would). Wade’s body bag lies at Steve’s feet. He does his best not to think too hard about Wade’s recent cranial explosion. If his healing ability is as awe-inspiring as supposedly told, then somehow Wade will recover from this, though he doesn’t know how long that will take. 

“You can drop him or - well - his body off at medical. They can keep an eye on what’s left,” Tony suggests, doing his best to avoid looking at the bag. Steve glances down but sees no movement. Not alive yet. 

“Sure. I’ll let them know not to peek,” Steve answers. He feels bad about leaving this for the unsuspecting staff but there’s not much he can do for Wade or his body right now. 

On the ground floor, he turns left towards the medical wing while everyone else goes to the right where the bank of elevators are. 

The nurses on staff greet him with smiles that turn into puzzled expressions at what he’s carrying. He’s never before come to them with such a thing as a body bag. He hefts it up a bit. 

“Deadpool...exploded. Needs some time to - to get things together. I wouldn’t look.” 

The smiles become a little fixed but they aren’t too fazed. Pepper doesn’t hire medical staff that are untested. Staff needs to be ready to deal with any sort of state the Avengers may return in. 

After he gives over Wade for observation (asking to be informed when he wakes up), he doesn’t care to go upstairs for debriefing. As far as he knows, Wade doesn’t have anyone besides Matt he can call a reliable friend. The thought saddens him to think Wade might be so quietly alone in the world. 

It feels only necessary and right to inform Matt of what happened. Steve can’t really count himself a friend of Wade’s by any means but Matt is (Was? It’s hard to figure out what tense to use with Wade) and that’s what matters right now. 

Calling Matt with the news seems too insensitive. Who knows, perhaps he’s used to Wade dying on the regular and Steve is just overreacting. However, he’s going to be safe by assuming this isn’t a usual circumstance. He sets off for the office of Murdock & Nelson figuring there’s no better time than now to inform him. Besides, the debrief can wait.

Karen’s mute shock doesn’t surprise him when she opens the door at his firm two knocks. From what he’s gathered, Matt leaves any and all crime fighting out of his conversations with his own friends, Karen and Foggy. 

“Good afternoon, madam.” He almost slips up wanting to say her name. “Is Mr. Murdock in right now?”

Wow he sounds like the perfect stereotype of his gentlemanly persona. Oh well. Better that than to have Karen or Foggy suspect Matt of being buddy-buddy with Captain America. Hopefully they’ll assume he’s here on official Avengers business or something. He’ll have Tony and Pepper come up with a reason as to why Captain needed to show up to speak with Matt. 

Karen nods, eyebrows raised in disbelief as she steps aside, offering him to step inside. He enters, noting the small shabbiness of the whole tiny office. Well, no one can accuse them of becoming fat cats off the backs of the poor and minority cases they work with. He will definitely have Pepper overpay them for whatever small job they can think of so they can get some better office equipment at the very least. 

She walks over to Matt’s office, knocking on the door and announcing herself before opening it. 

“Matt, a Mr. Steve Rogers is here to see you. Want me to send him in?” Karen asks tossing a polite smile over her shoulder to him. Steve smiles back, hoping to set her at ease a bit.

“Yes, please do. Thank you, Karen.” 

She beckons him in. The door clicks softly closed behind him. In front of Matt are papers full of Braille organized into neat piles. 

Matt stands with a small smile, offering out his hand. 

“To what do I owe this pleasure, Steve?” He tilts his head to the side a touch. “Your heart rate is up and I smell sweat. Nervous or just come in from an emergency?” 

He cuts right to the point. “Wade’s...possibly his version of temporarily dead. He took a grenade to the face saving a group of civilians. I brought him back to the Tower for observation but...” Steve hesitates at Matt’s sudden chalky coloring upon hearing the news. “I wanted to let you know where he is when - if he recovers from this.” 

The chair squeaks in protest at Matt’s near collapse into it. He takes off his dark tinted glasses, rubbing at his face trying to take this new information in. Steve swallows down his remorse at having to break this unhappy news.

“I’ll let you know as soon as he comes back, okay?” 

Steve shifts his weight from foot to foot when Matt doesn’t respond. “Call the Tower if you need anything. I’ll be there until we figure out what’s going on with Wade’s...recovery.” 

Finally Matt nods although he doesn’t bother to even look in Steve’s direction. He understands the need to process this possibility of losing Wade. 

\--

The start of Wade’s coming back to the land of the living is as explosive as his leaving was. 

It’s kickstarts when he demands a mirror because, “I must be a god or a monster because no one will look me in the face around here!” 

Seconds after a makeup compact is handed over by Pepper; 

“What the fuck happened to me?! It’s like someone fucking threw acid on me! Am I a disgraced Indian bride who tried to marry for love? Jesus Christ, no one will want this face!” 

Wade’s verbal diarrhea is impressively offensive. 

Steve glances at Peter, Natasha, and Clint who are staring in varying amounts of shock. Steve’s not sure if Clint managed to read Wade’s lips fast enough to catch everything, but he’s understood the gist. Even so, his heart wrenches for this “new” discovery of Wade’s. No one has the heart to tell him he’s been horrifically scarred all over like that since they can remember.

The nurses had warned them beforehand that Wade appeared to have no memory of his past, or in fact, anything before his waking up. No idea of how he’d ended up in the hospital ward of the Tower or why he wasn’t allowed a mirror (the nurses’ own initiative). Pepper had handed over her makeup compact without a fight when Wade demanded he have a mirror _right now_. 

**”Was he always like this?”** Clint tries to subtly sign to Steve but is interrupted by Wade’s squeal of glee. Apparently the horror of his mutilated body is overwhelmed by the discovery Clint uses sign language. 

**”Someone who can sign! I thought you just read lips. Steve is fucking gorgeous and so is the kid.”** Wade’s rapid fire answer back makes Clint grimace at that last part. Steve pretends he misses the whole sentence. Better not to encourage him.

 **”I didn’t know you could sign,”** Clint replies, seeming pleasantly surprised at this discovery. Despite the fact that it is Wade, Steve figures it’s got to be nice to have someone to easily converse with. 

Wade shrugs. **”Me either until a second ago. It felt natural.”**

That brings them back to the very serious matter of what to do with an amnesiac Wade Wilson. At least it takes the mercenary off the street for now, but how long will they have to look after him? After a point, Wade’s going to want to live his own life outside of the Stark Tower. Dear God, he hopes that’s the case. 

“Steve, you’re the one who rescued him. He stays in your wing,” Natasha calmly states. 

No one contradicts her. 

Despite Wade’s recent return to the land of the living with his crude words intact, Steve can tell Wade’s still unsettled by his appearance. It seems even without a memory to confirm whether or not the constantly healing scar tissue is normal, Wade knows something is off. 

Of course he won’t admit to that around the others. He jokes and teases with everyone gathered in the examination room.

Matt arrives within twenty minutes of being told the news of Wade’s awakening, by which time the rest of the Avengers have wandered off back to their own activities. The lobby secretary quietly pages for Steve by way of F.R.I.D.A.Y’s comm system. 

Steve intercepts him at the front desk of the Tower where a secretary is assuring Matt that Steve’s on the way down. 

“What’s wrong with Wade?” Matt demands when Steve gets closer. Maybe he should have prepared him for the news but he didn’t have the heart to tell Matt the details over the phone. 

\---

Waking up from death back into life is to be consumed by a burning, ragged pain Wade didn’t feel when he was floating in the nothingness of non-existence. 

He doesn’t admit this to the nurses and doctors who have been anxiously buzzing around him constantly or to the group of super-people that check in in groups of two. 

One thing that seems to be in no short supply other than opioids is the fact every one of the people who have come in to see him are knock-out beautiful and exactly not who he wants to see his burned body. In any case, he does what comes to mind first and that’s to make as many loud, crass jokes as he can. Anything to preoccupy his mouth and mind away from the wracking sensations throughout his body.

However, no one here seems to want to participate in cracking jokes, but still he muscles on because damn it, he’d rather laugh at his own lame efforts than scream out his pain. 

Steve’s the first one to come down to see him, trailing a muscular dude with a robotic arm and a redhead with the poise and dead eyes of a spy. He’s not quite sure how he knows that. Just that there are barely remembered thoughts nagging at his brain. 

Focus too hard and they disappear. 

So for now, Wade lets himself be introduced to the people showing up in his room, informed of their superhero identities, and that he, Wade, has got a case of amnesia. 

Above all that right now, all he wants is the biggest dose of morphine he can get to block out this _agony_ that makes his very bones ache with the added the sensation of sandpaper against his skin from his hospital clothes and bedding. But that’s not to be, for he’s got another visitor on the way as one of the many nurses informs him. 

What’s got his attention right now is that the Avengers are a mismatch of body dysphoria and scarring. At least even without memories, Deadpool’s not the only freak in this show.

Vision is the oddest one by far with his lack of _any_ body hair and not needing to breathe. It’s an unsettling sensation of uncanny valley to look at Vision and feel that there’s something slightly off about him. 

Shit, if anything, Bruce Banner looks like Wade himself. What he notices right off the bat is that Bruce’s whole skin looks irritated like he’s got a constant peeling sunburn. Pill bottles rattle around in the pockets of his pants and shirts when he moves.

The dude named Tony Stark looks no better. Through the thin material of his white tanktop Wade can see the flicker of something in the middle of his chest. It looks like a sunken hole. It’s a disturbing look. 

“You think we’re all strange,” Wanda notes, looking at him curiously. Wade blinks at her because he most certainly didn’t say that out loud. He thought it really hard but didn’t _speak_.

“Sorry, I read your mind. Your thoughts are very loud”

Wade can’t even be mad at that. He too would use that ability for good and bad intentions. 

“Strange, yeah, but no more than my burned body. I think you guys are weird to be adults living in fancy dorms but who am I to point out that oddity?” 

The more he pesters everyone about what he was like as a mercenary, the more is revealed that he did what he wanted rules be damned. Not in like killing kids but in killing pedophiles, rapists, and their ilk. And really? That seems just like him. 

Thankfully when Steve comes back with the new person, the various Avengers nod goodbye before slipping out. 

Wade doesn’t miss the detail of a small bald patch on the back of Tony’s head from where the suit has cut him so many times from being thrown around. 

When he returns to the room, Captain Handsome now has a dark haired man on his arm. 

The guy’s cute in direct opposition to Steve’s attractiveness. Paired together like this, Steve’s a tall, blond American man with a body of a god whereas this new person is of average height, slender, with dark brown hair and deep red tinted glasses. 

What strikes Wade the most even amid the sickening vise of this awful pain is how expressive Matt is. It sets him apart from this group of carefully schooled people. Neither one of them belongs here, that much is clear. 

“Is this my husband?” He takes a wild stab at what relation this new guy has to himself. Partly to try and get some laughs from such serious faces and also to ascertain just who the hell this guy is. 

Instead of any smile or even a chuckle from either one, Steve shakes his head.

“No, Matt’s not your husband. He’s a friend. I let him know what happened when you got your head injury and he’s been waiting to come see you.”

Wade looks to Matt to see if this is true to find he’s got his head bowed, lips pressed into a thin line. Even the blind guy can’t stand to look in his direction. 

“Hey, c’mere. Get your cute butt right into bed and we’ll hug it out, okay?” Wade coaxes leaning forward to gently pull at Matt’s hand. “This is something I’d do, right?” He hiss whispers to Steve who looks baffled at the question. _What the hell does he know about Wade?_ reads the expression. 

Matt snorts a cute-ugly sound. Okay, so maybe he’s getting somewhere with this. Clearly something in that sentence was perfect pre-brain injury Wade. 

“Yes, it’s something you’d say. But,” Matt’s expression falls serious. “Please don’t try to act how you think I want you to. You’re still Wade even without your memories.” 

The frankness takes Wade aback so completely that he ends up just looking at Matt dumbly as he carefully maneuvers himself into the bed. Wade tucks his arm around Matt’s shoulders finding that the burning pain soothes a tiny bit when Matt’s cool hand takes ahold of his. 

Steve murmurs a goodbye and takes his leave. 

“Were we...y’know... _boyfriends_?” Wade asks, eyebrows raised high and a tiny flame of hope in his chest. Because goddamn if some burn victim like him managed to get a catch like Matt then that would explain why his boyfriend’s blind. 

This question versus the one about being husbands gets a chuckle as Matt shakes his head. He’s right. There was never any chance. With those dick sucking lips, Wade never stood a chance of having him. Anyway, his dick is as scarred as the rest of his body. 

There’s a gentle squeeze on his right hand.

“I don’t mean it like that, slow the pity party. We weren’t dating but you -” The words stop and stutter as if Matt nearly admits something. He plays off the pause with a shrug. “We’d fool around when we both wanted to but, no, I never tied you down with the boyfriend label.” 

“We weren’t dating because I was already seeing someone else and was a cheater?” Wade supplies, prodding to get a real answer out of him. If no one else is going to be honest, his so called friend should be. 

As hoped, this statement seems to startle Matt, who sits up gaze slightly left of his face. 

“No - no nothing like that. I meant that you already had a woman you loved.” Matt raises his hand to stop Wade’s excited question. “I never knew who she was. You were very private about your personal life...but...when she was alive you adored her. Think of me as a grieving rebound.” 

The wallop that hits him in the chest that his girlfriend or wife is in fact dead leaves Wade breathless. 

“Jesus Christ, were you planning on telling me _that_ news any time soon?” 

Matt frowns, thinking over what to say to that. Clearly he doesn’t want to upset Wade anymore than he already did just now. He has the sneaking suspicion this type of behavior is only going to get worse from the others. 

“Wade, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to hide this from you. I just didn’t want to start off our first meeting with death. Well, besides the one you recovered from. Give you a breather before telling you the awful stuff.”

\--

Matt ends up staying for the next four hours talking with him, telling of their friendship, of what he knew of Wade, and winding down with discussing his day and what he, Karen, and Foggy get up to on their days off. It’s soothingly normal and takes his mind off his pain that still waits to blindside him at any moment.

When Steve returns to escort Matt back to the Tower’s entrance, Wade asks to see his old apartment. No point in putting off the ugly business of seeing his home.

Wade knows he should be devastated. Fall to his knees screaming _no_ at the heavens. After all, he has the cruel fate of no memories of this apartment or the woman in the polaroids with him that are strung all around the walls. The sexual nature of quite a few above the bed gives a good idea that they were romantically entangled literally and metaphorically. Well, that, or really great exhibitionist fuck buddies. However rather than a crushing blow of loss, it’s a quiet squeezing loneliness that clenches his chest. 

He picks off a polaroid from the wall. She’s looking coyly at the camera bare chested. The air in his lungs seems to have disappeared as the tears burn at his eyes. 

Who the fuck is he anymore? 

“Let’s go. Take me back to your place,” he manages to croak out, sniffing hard to reign himself back in. He looks up at Steve’s footsteps to find him standing close by. Those blue eyes gaze at him with genuine grief. 

How familiar with this pain Steve is, Wade realizes. Matt had explained the background not only on Wade himself, but Steve, and all the others who came to seek him when he woke up. 

Instead of dealing with sorrow, he turns to the thoughts of luxury on the silent ride from his apartment to Steve’s. The fantasies of overwhelming luxury are dismissed by the normalcy of Steve’s humble abode. It’s certainly nowhere near as flashy or computerized as what Stark’s built for himself.

However, he’s not disillusioned, but rather pleased at how down to earth Steve’s style is. Comfortable and cozy, this apartment feels like a warm home. He’s determined to soak up the good vibes in this place. 

It’s in direct opposition to what he’d glimpsed of at the Tower, which felt like a very expensive hotel where you don’t touch anything. 

“Huh. So this is what Steve Rogers’ apartment looks like. It’s...more modern than what the internet thinks. Specifically Reddit comments,” Wade notes, eyeing Steve’s living room as he walks around.

Steve shrugs, plopping down into his recliner. 

“I keep the older, fragile stuff in temperature controlled storage. The apartment isn’t the safest place for anything sentimental. Don’t know when someone’s going to wreck the place. Besides,” Steve pushes the lever so that the footrest pops out. “Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I can’t learn new stuff. Anyway, feel free to look around. I’m going to watch my new show for a bit.”

\--

It’s rather frustrating, not to mention annoyingly redundant to keep agonizing over not having memories. But before Wade can start bashing his head against the wall to try and reverse engineer his brain damage, Matt, the cutie from before, shows up on his second day of staying with Steve. 

As per usual, Steve’s chilling in his recliner with a comforter tucked in around him while Wade has chosen to sprawl out on the couch. They’re watching a trashy TV show called _The Magicians_. It’s not the best or even all that good but it’s funny to watch what this shitshow will think up next. Full of convoluted drama, somehow they both have become so attached to Eliot that they can’t stop watching. 

A knock on the door has Steve pausing the TV. 

“Your friends or a long lost daughter of mine showing up?” Wade asks as Steve hauls himself out of his recliner, throwing the comforter over Wade’s face. He flails off the blanket and sits up to see who is at the door.

Steve smiles shaking his head. “I told Matt how to find my apartment. He’s been holding onto your katanas for you and that should be him now.”

Wait, _katanas_? Wade himself is a ninja with blades? Hell yes!

Eagerly, he rolls off the couch right as Steve opens the door to reveal Matt who is indeed holding two katanas. Also thrown over Matt’s left arm is a canvas bag containing what Matt says is Wade’s Deadpool outfit. 

He’s interested in his swords more than the suit. The blades are flawless and clearly maintained to the utmost perfection.

So of course what does he do but try a cool twirling motion with them?

One katana flings towards Matt who sharply dodges the flying blade while the other hits Wade’s bare toes blade down.

It burns seconds before blood begins spurting.

“Holy fuck!” Wade screams yanking his foot back minus his toes. “Jesus Christ!” He screeches, falling on his ass to clench the top of his foot trying to staunch the bleeding. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve is rushing into the kitchen and back holding a handful of towels.

“Here - here. Wade. Take this,” Steve firmly orders at his side, tightly wrapping a kitchen towel just under his chopped off toes to stop the profuse gushing. Wade does, a minute trembling wracking through him. Not at the blood but at the fact he just fucking cut off all his toes. The pain is excruciating, a throbbing kind that dulls almost immediately at the larger tidal wave of normal pain his body is always under. Nausea cramps his stomach and he may very well puke on himself. 

Matt’s cool hands are stroking his cropped hair damp with a cold sweat kneeling on his other side. 

“You’re alright, Wade. You’ve got a healing ability. You’re like Steve.” 

The words stop his panic in its tracks. He looks from Matt to Steve, confused as the warmth of his blood is still saturating the kitchen towels.

“What? What the hell do you mean like Steve?”

Because if that’s true then why the fuck does he not look as knock-out gorgeous as Captain Handsome? Matt quirks his lips in a grimace of a smile. Wade absently wonders if Matt wonders what his expressions look like. 

“You’ve got the ability to heal from anything. You went through an....illegal experimental place. That’s why you’ve got those burn marks all over. Disappeared for a year.” Steve explains.

“Stage 4 cancer all over your insides,” Matt adds, when Wade gives Steve a _what the fuck?_ look. The amazing surprises just keep coming, he’s finding. 

“My life sounds terrible besides my girlfriend. How long before my toes grow back?” Wade asks, quickly wanting to change the subject. Right now he really should focus on his bleeding foot. 

“Couple hours to a day probably. Steve, if you could get some gauze?” Matt politely inquires. Steve nods and moves off to get his first aid kit. 

He’s thankful neither one agrees that his life’s luck is terrible.

\--

“You know it’s hard to have any sort of meaningful backstory not having a life to talk about,” Wade comments thoughtfully from where he’s curled up on the couch swaddled in a large blanket. When put like this, Wade’s actually tolerable. Truth be told it’s quite unsettling. Like time ticking backwards. Wade, as frustrating as he can be, is a constant. An annoying beeping in the background that one becomes habituated to.

“It’s like c’mon you really had _nothing_ else you could think up for a plot? Besides, I’m Deadpool! The merc with the mouth _and_ the ass, can’t forget that. How the hell am I going to drive the plot forward without angst? I mean it’s already been beat to death about my scars, my fridged girlfriend, my dog Daisy dying - oh wait - that’s John Wick, wrong movie. Sorry! Spoilers!” 

Steve isn’t sure who the hell Wade is talking to staring up at the ceiling. Or who John Wick and Daisy are. 

Is it possible that Wade might already be recovered? He’d be a little disappointed to see Wade leave so soon. Despite their lack of close friendship, he admittedly enjoys the blunt, crude humor of Wade. 

“Um...Wade? Are you feeling okay and, if you are, are you remembering stuff?” 

Wade startles, looking over at Steve as if what he just said is a surprise to him as well. 

“I’m...not sure. I think I was fourth wall breaking. It felt familiar at least.” Wade shrugs, eyebrows raised. Well, that’s a good sign that the gesture seems commonplace to him. Hopefully recovering the rest of what he’s lost won’t take too long either. 

\-- 

Truth be told, for only being three days alive Wade really hoped he’d be back to normal. Whatever the hell that meant when his whole body ached, his skin burning constantly. 

But still he finds his chest tightening, his throat closing to the point of suffocation. Unknown panic gnaws at him relentlessly. 

The third night he can’t handle being by himself again. In the hospital and the first night on Steve’s couch he’s been in a constant cold sweat. No position seems comfortable as he tosses and turns. No thoughts of Matt are any comfort to soothe the panic. 

But with Steve around, although his physical pain never lessens, he enjoys his company. If he can’t offer anything to share, he’ll take what Steve shows of his own current life. Right now Steve’s showing him how to draw on a tablet, which is so fucking hard Wade has no idea how people do it. 

Like a child, he gathers the comforter around his shoulders to make his way back to Steve’s room, the joints of his toes cracking in the silence of the darkened apartment. 

Slowly ,Wade creaks open the bedroom door to find Steve a lump in his bed. The soft, slow sounds of his breathing tell that he’s deeply asleep. 

Wade whispers, “Hey - Steve.” 

A beat. 

“Steve? You awake?” Wade softly calls knowing full well he won’t wake. Easier to pretend he’s been rejected. 

He steps back to leave only for Steve to croak, “Wade?” as he looks over his shoulder. Wade steps forward into his bedroom. 

“Yeah, it’s me. Having some night panics. Y’know how being dead is.” He fake chuckles with a shrug. 

Steve clicks on the lamp on the nightstand, sleepily frowning at him. 

“Why do you do that? Put yourself down so much?” 

The seriousness pinching Steve’s mouth, pulling his eyebrows down startles Wade. 

For a moment all he can do is helplessly shrug. No one’s ever _questioned_ his self-deprecation. 

“I dunno? Relieves the tension? People don’t ask too many questions when you joke all the time.” Wade again shrugs, self-conscious. He didn’t realize admitting his night panics meant he was going to get psychoanalyzed. 

But is Steve no longer staring him down. Instead he’s rubbing at his eyes and yawning. The concern is replaced by tiredness as Wade has woken him up in the middle of the night. 

“Hop in then. I’ve got a heating pad if your muscles are sore from the attacks,” Steve offers patting the open side of the bed. 

“You have panic attacks?” He takes a guess, surprised to hear that. Honestly Wade figured that Steve would be the ultimate master of being Zen after readjusting to an entirely new way of life. 

Clicking off the light as Wade gets into bed, Steve’s expression becomes shadowed. The soft faint glow of a night-light across the room reveals nothing. 

“I do. Courtesy of being frozen in ice for seventy-five years very much awake and aware of it all. For me, time lost all meaning. It was hellish.” Now it’s Steve’s turn to shrug, embarrassed of his trauma. “I can’t sleep without a night-light. There’s one in every room here and at the Tower. Same thing with the cold. I keep heating pads wherever I go when it’s possible.” 

All Wade can muster is a soft, “Damn.” 

What can he say in reply to that? Glad you’re okay? Because clearly in some way he’s not. Hooray that you got out of the ice! Sucks that you got frozen there for seventy-five years in the first place? 

So instead they drift into silence. It’s a little awkward as they both lay there trying to go to sleep with someone new laying next to them. However, at some point Wade manages to drift off to the sound of Steve’s breathing soothing on his frayed nerves. 

\-- 

When they stop at the Tower it’s to do a wellness check on him. Make sure physically and neurologically he’s holding up from coming back from the dead. 

And while he’s not going to pretend he knows these people at all he’s getting a certain vibe from the Avengers. Namely that they put up with him but that’s about it. 

Man, he must have been a huge asshole to piss off this cool group. Maybe he tried to see them naked or write smutty fanfiction that they found out about. Yeah, that second one seems most likely. He’d love to get bossed around by Black Widow or lavish Steve’s ass and Bucky’s thighs with attention. Damn. If only he could remember where he might have posted those stories. 

Looks like it’s AO3 to the rescue. 

What he can be sure about is that Steve likes him. He doesn’t even pretend to be disdainful or ignore him like Tony, Bruce and Natasha. 

The other thing that stands out to him besides the fact everyone here is knock-out gorgeous is the undeniable tension when Bucky enters a room. 

It’s rather cute to see how attached at the hip Steve and Bucky are when they’re in a room together. Wade witnesses his first true instance of their friendship when he leaves the exam room after it being declared that he’s good health besides the regenerating cancer and agonizing pain that no drugs, legal or otherwise, will touch. He finds Bucky seated next to Steve, avidly watching his friend mess around with his Wacom tablet. 

(Steve may be slightly obsessed with carrying both his fancy tablet and small sketchbook around). 

What’s less cute is the tension that racks up as soon as Bruce and Tony come in search of him. Sure, he was told to wait in the exam room but he got bored after a minute in there. 

“Wade!” Tony calls out, irritated at having to go look for him. Wade grins, looking at Steve and Bucky, a joke on his tongue only to abrupt shut up. Bucky won’t look at Tony, studiously keeping his gaze glued to the tablet while Steve is watching to see what reaction his best friend’s presence is going to incite in Tony. A glance to the man in question shows a brittle polite expression. 

He takes a good guess that Bucky is normally nowhere in the vicinity of the Tower unless Steve is close by. 

“Afternoon, Barnes. Steve,” Tony greets before he turns sharp, annoyed eyes on Wade. “Come here, Wade. We want to grab some more blood samples before you go. See if we can’t get some studying done on the mutation.” 

By the time Wade returns after several vials have been filled up with his blood, it’s to find Bucky gone and Steve impatiently waiting to leave. 

“Where’d your best friend go? I wanted to say hi,” Wade asks, disappointed at not meeting the man who has meant everything to Steve. (Being in constant pain and therefore unable to sleep has given him lots of leisure time on the internet to read about their tragedy struck friendship). 

Steve gestures with his chin towards the automatic doors leading to the main lobby. 

“Waiting for us. He stopped by when I told him we were getting your check-up done. Figured you wouldn’t mind Bucky hanging out with us?” 

Wade shakes his head vehemently. “Psh nah! I’m always up for meeting best friends! But,” he gets serious here. “What the hell was up with that awkward shit between you, Tony, and Bucky? Like that was ‘I cheated on you with him’ situation.” 

In spite of himself, Steve smiles although it’s clear he’s trying not to. 

He may or may not take a lot of pride in getting Steve to at least chuckle at his crass humor. 

“That’d be easier to deal with, honestly. It’s - to do with Bucky’s past as the Winter Soldier. But I don’t want to tell it for him. He’s had enough people do that.” 

Of course that just makes him all the more curious about whatever’s going on between those two. He manages to hold off all the way until they’re in Bucky’s apartment before he blurts out, “Can I touch your metal arm? Please? I trade touching your metal arm for you crushing my hand with it?” 

They’ve just settled down in the living room, Steve and Bucky on the couch, and Wade in the very comfortably padded rocking chair. 

Bucky blinks in surprise, whether at Wade’s rash question or the fact he seems so excited about the arm it doesn’t matter. Steve on the other hand gives Wade a look of scandalized disappointment. Bucky shrugs as he makes a fist with the metal arm. The plates in the arm move in response, quietly clicking. 

It really is a beautiful piece of machinery. 

He shakes his head. “You can touch it. Nothing that special.” He holds out his hand 

“I’m surprised you keep the thing. Figured it’d be a reminder of the murder days.” 

Steve might possibly be trying to kill him with a glare from how upset he looks at Wade’s frank observations. Bucky, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to mind the questioning. 

“I remember the killings in pieces - but - I’ve made my peace with my arm. It’s something I _choose_ to keep. Dealing with the flashbacks and nightmares are worse than a robotic arm. Anyway, yeah you can feel the arm.” 

Wade starts to say something as his hand closes around the metal, but never finishes the thought as pain rings through his head. 

_Screams - screams of skin tearing pain. His own._

_Relentless frigid water battering him to the cold stone floor. Gasping. He can’t breathe, can’t turn his head away to breathe._

_He’s suffocating, blacking out, dying._

_Bone grinding agony, shrieks of desperation, and the angry buzz of pain all over his body._

When he comes back to himself it’s to find he’s laid out on the floor panting hard, his chest and constricted lungs about to burst. 

Kneeling on either side of him is Bucky and Steve talking in low concerned voices. They are grasping his hands in one of theirs (Bucky with his flesh and blood hand not the metal one), both resting their other free hand on his chest. The pressure is an anchor. 

Steve’s voice is directed at him now. “Wade, hey, you okay? Seem like you were having a panic attack there. Or did Buck’s arm shock you or something?” 

Struggling to bring his breathing back to normal he sits up, helped by them both. A cold sweat glistens over his skin. He doesn’t let go of their hands. 

“M’alright. Think I remember how I got this ugly mug. It was awful. Almost suffocating to death was what forced my mutation.” The warmth of Steve gently rubbing his back is immensely comforting. He’d really like to curl up on Steve’s lap to recover. “How about a movie? I don’t wanna think about torture right now.” 

Luckily, neither one pushes Wade to talk about his feelings. They help him up onto the couch between them and jokingly bicker over what’s the best movie to watch, flipping through the large DVD case on the table. 

\-- 

Steve knows Wade is bored. It’s easy enough to see with the long sojourns he takes around town, spending hours at the bar called ‘Wayward Girls’ filled with his past mercenary coworkers and sex workers. Who knows, maybe he’ll decide to pick the trade back up memories be damned. 

What he’s not expecting one evening right as he’s gotten up from his nap is: 

“I thought since we’re once again not doing anything tonight, then why not ask you out for dinner? Unless I was such a bag of dicks before this stupid memory loss you actually hated me?” Wade asks, tentatively hopeful. 

Steve blinks before rubbing at his gritty eyes. Something about going out and bags and dicks? What the hell is Wade saying now? 

He combs his fingers through his knotted hair, struggling to wake up from such a heavy sleep. 

“Sorry, Wade. One more time. What was that?” 

Wade pauses amidst putting on his doughnut themed flip flops, eyebrows raised as if fondly exasperated at Steve not quite catching all of what he just said. 

“Me. You. Dinner. Date. Now? I’m hungry,” he slowly spells out, slipping on the flip flops and grabbing his wallet from the tiny table by the shoes where keys and wallets are usually set. 

Leave it to Wade to ask him out even with no memory of their past possible relationship. Well, he thinks, why not? It’s been...forever since he’s gone out on a date, and well, Steve’s maybe been spending time thinking about Wade and his body. He knows the scarring has Wade self-conscious and always trying to cover up but truth is they don’t bother Steve in the least. 

Besides, he’s been startled to find out now that he’s had the chance to really get to know Wade that he’s rather attracted to his personality. Sure, Wade has no brain to mouth filter, but he’s fierce in the convictions of his own twisted justice and vengeance. Protecting those who can’t fight for themselves and not taking himself seriously by any means. It’s not only his brash side that’s endearing it’s the ordinary side to Wade when he’s relaxing on the couch or commentating through an entire movie. 

He shrugs. “Sure, let’s go. Any place in mind?” 

“Taco joint couple blocks away? They make _huge_ burritos.” 

So that’s how Steve ends up going on a dinner date with Wade. 

It’s going fine. They idly chatter and order dinner. Steve shows him the silly videos Peter sends him of him trying out the spider-silk he creates. The food is delicious. 

What stands out to Steve is that Wade seems nervous the entire time. He jokes and talks as he usually does but his body language and eye contact is more protective. It’s as if he’s afraid of what Steve thinks of him. He’s not sure what to do to set Wade at ease. 

The real reason Wade’s nervous becomes apparent when they head out for a walk. 

“Hey, so, is it too weird to ask you for a kiss? I’ve been thinking about it since last night and I figured - well why not? Even though I still don’t remember the you from before I really like the you I know now but only if you want to kiss me. I’m not pressuring you, right? Or is me asking that pressuring you?” 

A startled laugh escapes him because this is the cutest thing Wade’s done. Steve offers him his hand, which Wade smiles and clasps. 

“Not weird at all. How about we wait until we get back to the apartment? Unless we want people swarming us with phones?” he teases, even as the butterflies tickle the inside of his chest. 

Before this wild ride of Wade having amnesia, Steve will profess he never did have an attraction towards the merc. Not because of the scarring but because of the fact they’d never had much reason to interact with one another. He can admit that the thought of kissing Wade _now_ though… that sparks different thoughts and feelings. 

By the time they return home, Steve’s gone all cotton-mouthed in anticipation. They both share an embarrassed laugh at wiping their sweaty hands on their pants. Okay, so good that they’re both a little nervous about this first kiss. 

"No pithy remarks?” Steve jokes, pulling Wade close so he can wrap his arms around Wade’s shoulders. His heart is pounding even as arousal sparks through his body. Wade smiles, locking his hands behind Steve’s lower back pressing close from chest to hip. He swallows a gasp at the tingles in his nipples at the hold. 

Wade chooses not to answer. Instead he takes the lead by being the first to lean in. The kiss is light, chaste all the more erotic with how Steve’s body hums with pleasure. Steve caresses the back of Wade’s head tenderly feeling the bumpiness of the ever healing scars. 

“Hey, c’mon.” Wade gently shakes his head to remove Steve’s hand off of his bare scalp. 

A frown of concern. “Did I hurt you touching your skin like that?” 

Again Wade shakes his head although this time he looks more embarrassed than anything. 

“No, no just feels weird - I mean _good_ but weird that you want to touch my skin with...how it looks?” He shrugs already withdrawing from the sensual moment between them. Steve moves his hand so that instead he’s hugging Wade close, his chin resting on his shoulder. 

“I like how your skin feels but if it makes you uncomfortable I won’t pet you. But...does that mean kissing’s off the table then?” 

A laugh as Wade’s hands cup his ass through his sweatpants, lust twinging low in Steve’s stomach. 

“Hell no! I’d die from blue balls, are you kidding?!” 

\-- 

Despite the fact Wade accidentally chopped off his toes when twirling his katanas, the experience hasn’t prevented him from playing with them again. He’s only cut them off again ten or so times. Good practice for getting blood out of various surfaces and fabrics without Steve noticing. 

Admittedly Wade’s not doing this out of some sick pleasure for self-mutilation. He’s getting bored around the apartment. Steve’s great and all but there’s _something_ missing. He very much gets the impression that he didn’t live a sedate lifestyle if that horrible Project X flashback was anything to go by. 

So he decides to see what Matt’s up to these days. He’d avoided going to see him only because Wade doesn’t know how to be a friend to him like he was before the stupid amnesia plot twist. 

But at this point he’ll give it an honest shot, if only to avoid going stir-crazy. 

“Hey, Steve, let’s go see Matt! We haven’t seen him in forever!” Wade announces when Steve gets back from his morning jog. It’s not that he can’t go by himself but the fact is, he wants Steve to come with. He has a gut feeling that Steve and Matt are quite the matched pair in their convictions of justice and righteous punishment. 

Even so, it’s a surprise to him when Steve agrees. Usually when Wade impulsively suggests to do something he takes a moment to think about it. 

Maybe Steve’s also getting bored of not doing any Avengers work. Looks like he is a man of violence as well. 

While normally he’d love to pop in, neither he or Steve know where Matt lives so he’s obliged to call ahead first and ask for his address. 

“Hiiii Matt. Can me and Steve come see you tonight? I tried googling hot blind dude but that only brought up some really...interesting porn videos,” Wade cooes into new cell phone (his other one apparently got blown up by the grenade that destroyed his head). 

Matt’s laughter down the phone has him grinning. 

“Sure just-” a sharp inhale. “Be warned. I don’t look pretty right now. Got into a fight I wasn’t ready for.” 

“Got your ass handed to you?” Wade offers. 

A humorless chuckle. “Something like that.” 

When Matt said he was beaten up, he wasn’t kidding. He’s laid out on his bed looking like everything hurts. A black eye, fat lip and _lots_ of colorful bruises and cuts all over him. 

It’s _hot_. Wade wants to look like that. He wants Steve to wear those type of bruises. If it weren’t for his super soldier serum he probably would look worse than Matt after all his missions. 

“Fuck, you look gorgeous like that. Don’t you think, Steve?” Looks like he discovered his pain kink. 

Matt snorts, rolling his eyes and pointing towards his kitchen. 

“Go get this handsome man a wrapped up ice pack for his eye. This one’s gone warm.” 

Wade really needs to stop touching anyone but Steve. Horrible thoughts happen otherwise. 

He fetches the ice pack, wrapping it up in a dish towel as Steve takes the warm one from Matt to put back in the freezer. 

“Here you go!” Wade announces, grabbing hold of Matt’s outstretched hand to place it in his palm. 

Wade’s past life bursts open like a balloon inside his mind. 

_Blood, so much **blood**. Grins and guns._

_Screams of ecstasy and baking pastry scent of chocolate Toaster Strudels._

_Matt’s face close to his. The soft, cool touch of his lips on Wade’s face, on his own lips._

_Undulating, soul piercing screams of terror. Captain America a welter of color in his periphery, the deafening sound of Iron Man’s suit overhead._

_A grenade -_

_The sterilized hospital room in Stark Tower._

“Wade. Wade. Are you okay?”

It’s Matt’s frightened voice. Wade opens his eyes to realize he’d slump over on top of him, his nose squished against Matt’s hip. His heart is pounding and a cold sweat covering his skin.

“Holy fuck, this was the whole plot of this story! I mean the _fic_ as the cool kids say.” 

Steve and Matt give him a partially confused and concerned look. Precious, innocent boys. 

Wade is really going to have to introduce them to AO3 _tonight_.

“What the hell do you mean?” Wow that’s possibly the first time he’s heard Steve swear this whole time. He really should do that more often.

Wade can’t help his eye-roll. Such is the burden of being the only person who can stare back at the creator. 

“Steve. Sweet buns. I literally get put with you the moment I wake up, we live together for how long, I mean for god’s sake there was even a special Bonding moment between me and Bucky, your best friend, about our bodily mutilation and lack of memories. How much more could we be pushed together?” 

They both eye him like he’s absolutely bonkers. Thank god that’s back to normal. 

“I’ll explain it to you more later, but the better news is that I got my memories back! We still need to do our threesome sparring match once Matt’s healed up. I need a rematch.” 

The relief on their faces at hearing that makes his chest feeling all warm. It’s good to be back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta vanillasolitude for working with me on this fic! I really appreciate all the commas you added for me. 
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic you'll be glad to know that I'm participating in Captain America Big Bang 2019 so you'll see another giant story from me in the upcoming months. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated for my hard work. They give me a nice bump of validation from my readers.


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